Brian and the Queen's Young Ladies
by Bineshii
Summary: Brian gets to escort a young lady on a three day trip to a market fifteen miles from Camelot. On the return trek the shoppers are attacked by brigands.


**Brian and the Queen's Young Ladies**

 **A Further Adventure in the Adventures of Sir Lancelot**

It was early fall and a warm day with a cool breeze. The humidity of summer was gone and it was a good day to harvest fruit. No more sweating while just standing still, thought Brian, sniffing the faint sent of pears on the breeze. He had felt invigorated earlier during the squires' morning sword practice session. But now he was out here with these girls – something he was not really keen on. He would rather have been out fishing or hunting than picking pears with the queen's young ladies.

Though his job was to stand guard, warning them of any dangers from wild boars or the approach of strange men, they were so close to Camelot's castle that there was little danger. A half mile at most from the nearest portal in the walls, they were well within the community's grain fields, orchards, and gardens. Knowing this, the ladies persuaded their escort into climbing pear trees to shake down fruit that they could not reach by hand or with small nets on the end of sticks.

"Hey, Brian," giggled one tall girl with long curly brown hair, "I think you ripped your leggings on that last branch!"

Brian looked down at her smirking face and felt along the seam of his leggings.

"Oow, what a nice bum," sang out another girl.

His cheeks turned red as a blonds' facial skin tends to do when embarrassed. Observing his alarmed face made the girls giggle more and his cheeks turned yet a brighter red. He shook a branch vigorously sending a cascade of pears to the ground, before backing down the tree and jumping to the ground.

"Emma," Brian asked the one girl who was not laughing at him, "could you please, um, check the back of my leggings?"

Emma did so, and with a concerned expression as the other girls howled even louder with almost unladylike laughter.

"I think they are tricking you," Emma whispered. "There is no rip. But don't worry. It is because they like you. They asked the queen to ask Sir Lancelot to assign you to us. All this teasing is just to get your attention."

Then hesitantly Emma said "I like you too but I won't tease. I know how it feels to get teased and even get mean comments because of the two missing fingers on my hand."

Brian's face relaxed and his cheek color faded. He looked Emma in the eye as if he had never seen her true self before and said "I would never tease you for that."

"I know," she said.

The other girls grew quiet when they noticed Brian was giving Emma all his attention.

"Emma! You are a junior girl here. Come carry the heaviest basket back to the castle wall."

Brian glanced at Margery as she shook out her long curly hair with flick of her hand. She was bossy because she was the oldest girl and allowed an escort when she walked around the town at the base of the castle walls shopping for combs, brooms, or wooden spoons made there. It was rumored that her parents were considering various suitors for her among the oldest squires and newly made knights. Brian considered himself still safe from that kind of parental scrutiny because at fourteen he was at least a year shy of being one of the top squires and two years away from even thinking about being evaluated for promotion to knighthood. Yes, he was sure Margery was just practicing her teasing on him so she could perfect it for use on those older boys.

Brian glanced around in a circle, taking in their surroundings like he was supposed to for evaluating their safety. The sun was getting low. He strode over to the heaviest basket that Margery had been pointing to and hoisted it onto his shoulder saying "If you ladies can carry the other baskets, I think we should start back now. If you find them too heavy, just leave them and I will send some pages out for them after we are safely home."

Margery narrowed her eyes, marring her youthful comeliness. She stared at Emma, then at Brian. "Put that basket down! I want Emma to carry it."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you find it too heavy to carry yourself?"

He instantly knew he had overstepped his bounds. Sir Lancelot had told him repeatedly that he should always be patient and mild tempered with the ladies. He knew what was coming.

"Listen you upstart serf and kitchen boy, your job is to be a lookout and not to contradict my authority!"

"I have the authority where safety is concerned here," Brian shouted back. "I consider it safer if we get back quicker and we can do that if I carry the heaviest basket rather than one of you!"

"Drop that basket!"

Brian sighed and put it down.

"Fine," he said. "Now can we all start back, without the baskets? The shadows are getting long." Putting his arm around Emma and taking little Heather's hand, Brian started walking toward the castle.

"You just all wait up!" Margery said, stamping her foot with her arms folded across her chest. She stood her ground and the other girls, who had started to walk, stopped and glanced between Margery and Brian.

Brian stopped too. He could not leave any of them there. He would have to knuckle under, letting Margery have her way, if they were to get back before dusk. As he turned to ask Margery how she wanted this return trip done, hoof beats sounded on the far side of the rise beyond the pear orchard.

Brian ran back behind all the girls and shouted "Go now!"

They did. Margery in the lead with her longer legs, not stopping to help the youngest girls who were only six and seven years old. Emma noticed this and grabbed Heather and Juliana's hands. She knew the younger girls could not out run horses so she pulled them behind some bushes and clasped her palms over both their whimpering mouths.

Brian blocked the path between the pear and apple orchards with his body and drew his sword. He willed his arms not to shake and whispered sharply even though the running girls could not hear him "Go, go, go, please go."

He suspected he could not hold off mounted riders for long but he might be able to delay them long enough for the girls to get to safety.

Over the rise two armed knights appeared and pulled their mounts to a hard braking stop at the sight of Brian.

"What the hell, Brian!" said Sir Bors.

Brian lowered his sword. "Sorry my lords, I had no idea who was approaching."

Sir Anthony was still sawing at his horse's mouth to keep him from leaping sideways in an attempt to keep running. When he had it under control he said "Bors, it is actually our fault. The boy could hardly know who was coming at such speed. Brian, we have news the king needs to hear quickly. Let me take you up behind me so we can get you back within walls too."

Brian sheathed his sword and replied "I have to see the queen's young ladies back safely. If there is danger behind you, I cannot abandon my charges."

"I see they have nearly all run back to the gate," said Bors. "Okay boy, do your duty and we will do ours."

The two knights spurred their sweating horses and pounded down the path, raising dust as they went.

Having heard the conversation, Emma rose up from the bushes, pushing the two girls ahead of her. Brian nodded. He looked back the way the knights had come, and seeing no one yet, picked up the heaviest pear basket. Trotting toward the castle behind the three girls, he listened for anything following them. Unless he was forced to drop the basket again for defense purposes, he would at least win something over Margery by returning with it. Even if she told tales to the queen so that he would have a harsh word from Sir Lancelot later, fresh pears for dinner would be worth it.

…

In the hallways of Camelot castle, the evening torches were being lit as Brian's old loose sandals slapped on the stone floor of the ground level. In the squires dormitory he had changed out the mailed boots he wore for guard duty. As he mounted the stone steps up a level to the wood plank hallway of the knight's quarters, he wondered what the danger was that Sir Bors had mentioned.

The shouts of playing children did not echo in this hallway, only grown male voices. These were the unmarried knight's quarters. Lancelot's rooms were bare of the décor the wives of married knights provided. But his status allowed him quarters where one wall backed on a chimney that rose from the kitchens to discharge smoke through the roof several floors above. It kept the rooms the chimney passed up through above freezing point in the worst of the winter. Turning into Lancelot's outer room through an open wood door, Brian saw neatly stacked weapons and armor. This neatness was his job to maintain as a squire. This storage area was dark but Brain could see Lancelot must be in his inner sleeping chamber by the glow of candlelight within.

"You are back, Brian. Good," was Lancelot's greeting as he heard Brian's unique slapping sandal step.

Brian found Lancelot looking out the narrow window at the dusk settling into the courtyard below. The chimney wall was warm where Brian touched it, probably from the stoking of fires for the evening meal, t wo levels down. That reminded Brian how hungry he was.

"I must have a word with you before the evening meal, Brian."

Brian took a deep breath and let it out slowly while thinking 'he has heard already'.

Lancelot turned, the gold thread embroidery on his full sleeved court tunic glinting dully in the candle light. Tall and slender, the knight did not have the beefy build cultivated by many of his peers. Though strong from boyhood play, and well muscled from endless sword drills and practice bouts, his effectiveness came more from quick skilled movements than brute power. He also had an uncanny sense of what his opponent's next tactic would be. His eyes never gave his own tactics away and now, with crossed arms, Lancelot looked long and intently at Brian.

"I guess this is in reference to my guardianship of the queen's young ladies this afternoon, isn't it?"

A slight smile began to play across Lancelot's face but he quickly assumed a sterner visage.

"It is. What is your report on this?"

Brian glanced at the smoothly planed wooden planks of the floor covered with a scattering of woven straw mats and one small colorful wool rug. Then he raised his eyes up past the soft furs and feather pillow on Lancelot's narrow bed - until he met the eyes of his mentor.

"If the leader of the group, young Lady Margery, has made a report, I would have nothing to add to it. Let that stand as what passed this afternoon."

"Oh?" said Lancelot, reaching down to scoop a pear off the one table in his room and toss it into the air, deftly catching it in an upturned palm. "Are you sure you have nothing to say?"

"I will not contradict the word of a lady," Brian said softly. "So whatever punishment you think best…"

"Brian, you believe that she has given a bad report?" Asked Lancelot, turning to set the pear back on the table so Brian could not see the brief shadow of mirth playing across his face.

"Um, I did snap at her verbally at one point, my lord."

"I see. And did you order the girls to leave their baskets of pears so they would have to make an extra trip out to retrieve them tomorrow as a deliberate ploy to have them miss their breakfast and get heavy dew on their clothes?"

"Oh no, my lord! I mean, if she said so. You have often told me to be patient and not contradict a lady."

"True, Brian. There is no honor in embarrassing a lady. But there is honor in standing up for yourself and the truth of a matter."

Brian tried to make light of the matter. "She was teasing me. But I can take teasing and have done so many times before because of the low status I was born to. It was weakness to verbally spar with a lady, to give in to her meanness. Let us leave it at her word."

"But Brian, others have words about this and saw what Margery actually did. One young lady reported word for word about the teasing and then about how you stayed behind to protect them as they ran for the safety of the castle. I wanted to commend your behavior, not punish you for it."

"Really?" Brian's face lit up. "I think I know who defended me. It was the only girl who wasn't laughing over the teasing."

"One girl? There were three girls who defended you to the queen. Lady Margery is receiving the queen's discipline at this very moment."

Brian stared at his sandals, lightly kicking the edge of a floor mat with one of them. "I, um, never expected fairness from any of them that laughed at me. That is surprising."

Lancelot stepped over to Brian and mussed his hair, a thing which Brian would tolerate only from Lancelot.

"Let's go eat now, boy. And remember, in the time after an incident, sometimes people think better of their behavior and try to make up for it."

Lancelot blew out the set of tallow and beeswax candles. With his arm over Brian's shoulder, he steered him towards the door and the smell of cooked chicken that was wafting through the hallways of Camelot.

…

The danger warning Sir Bors brought turned out to be a false alarm, at least for now. It seemed a band of brigands were not headed for Camelot, but turned south toward a less populated area. The king was sending a patrol to monitor their movements. Though such bands were less of a problem since the present king had restored order in the kingdom, danger of robbery and worse was still a constant concern. By the next day, normal workday activities resumed around Camelot, people venturing outside the castle walls with confidence.

Brian had woken in the squires' dormitory with a slap across the chest by a fellow squire named Simon whom Brian immediately paid back with a punch to his shoulder. They tussled for a minute, then laughing, hurried to get dressed in the chilly fall morning air. After breakfast and morning exercises, Brian was free to go outside the walls for an afternoon of small game hunting. The kitchen staff always welcomed offerings from hunters and provided a sweet snack in thanks. Asking in the kitchens what they might like him to hunt had gotten him some strips of dried beef to take on his hunt since he would be missing the noon time meal.

He left the castle and started off at a brisk pace down through the town outside the castle, chewing on a piece of beef. It looked like the brief rain had ended so the afternoon would be pleasant.

"Wait up, Brian!"

Emma pushed between a man carrying a basket of cabbages under his arm and a woman carrying a basket of laundry on her head.

"I wanted to ask you something."

Brian turned, his bow strapped to his back and a set of snares hanging from his belt. He put the beef strip back in a pocket. Emma was lifting her skirt to avoid a puddle left from the light midday shower. The rain had cleared the air and taken the edge off the fleeting fall midday heat so the afternoon was sparkling. It gave back a little of the green color to the grasses despite the drying, colorful leaves that were beginning to claim the forests.

Skidding to a stop close to Brian, Emma took a couple of deep breaths before saying "My mother said it would be okay for me to go to buy some linen cloth, linen thread, and leather lacings at the market two days from now. It is to be at a farm village fifteen miles west of Camelot. Traveling vendors are making their way through the country side as reported by farmers bringing loads of hay to Camelot. Mother said I could go because the king is sending an escort of foot soldiers to protect people from Camelot who intend to visit the market. But she doesn't entirely trust foot soldiers around young ladies. She said I would need a personal escort and she would trust you. We would be gone for three days and have to camp out for two nights."

Brian was pleased with this assessment of his protective abilities. He brushed a stray lock of lank blond hair out of his eyes with the edge of his upper arm and smiled at Emma. "I will have to check if Sir Lancelot needs me, but I will give you a tentative yes. Thanks for asking me. I have been saving a little of the allowance Sir Lancelot gives me, to buy leather for a new pair of sandals. He wants me to learn how to budget money and I think new sandals would be a wise purchase."

"Great! And Brian you have a nice smile, even when you blush. No, especially when you blush."

Her words actually made him blush, but she didn't see this because she had turned on her heel and was running back through the busy street. Just outside the castle here, people where moving in all directions as they were employed in various crafts and services. The street Brian was standing in was between the one and two story wooden buildings that usually form a town in the shadows of castle walls. It contrasted to the other side of the castle he where had been yesterday with the orchards coming almost up to the walls. But this way through town led out to a forested area where the town's people collected wood for their fires and where wild game took shelter. Brain mused over the fact that ordinary people, farmers and crafters, felt safer close to the garrisons of trained men found in castles. These garrisons and the gentry that governed the castles where good customers for their services. Brian had to walk quite a way further to get out where hunting was good enough to bag a couple of birds and rabbits. But he thought he should be back by evening so he could ask Sir Lancelot about escorting Emma on this market trip.

Sir Lancelot willingly gave Brian a few days off from his duties to escort Lady Emma to the market. He would not be needed because several of the knights would be housebound for awhile, being assigned to a committee assessing the patrol routes needed to protect a section of the kingdom that had become somewhat troublesome. Maps were spread out over the round table and men were leaning over them when Brian had come in with his request. Since the temporary market was only fifteen miles from Camelot, the knights thought it would be safe enough and good practice to let their squires help escort the ladies. If there was trouble, someone could easily come back to Camelot for reinforcement by 'heavier artillery', i.e., mounted knights. Besides, Camelot's foot soldiers where a formidable guard.

When the merry expedition left, Emma was wearing her second best gown and was allowed a donkey to ride which would also carry her purchases. She had her purse hidden on a lanyard around her neck and tucked between her breasts under her gown. This had gotten a rather good blush out of Brian when he inquired about the safety of her money and the frankness with which she told him of its hiding place. His own coin purse was similarly hidden, for purses dangling from belts often had their stings cut long before the owners discovered the theft.

Brian led the donkey, walking between two lines of foot soldiers with their pikes and spears carried on their shoulders. His horse was in need of shoeing so Brian had left him with the blacksmith, deciding that walking fifteen miles would be good exercise. Ahead of them were ladies of higher rank, mostly on horseback but three of them were in litters on poles carried by four men. The curtains on these palanquins were closed, so Emma and Brian could not tell who the ladies were.

Behind them were carts pulled by donkeys and many women walking with packs on their backs, brightly chattering away. One woman was deft enough with a spindle to be creating linen thread as she walked along gossiping with a friend. Brian, always alert as Lancelot had taught him, scanned the fields and forested areas as they passed through them. Every so often he asked Emma if he could hop up behind her on her donkey for a higher view. He was glad Master Geoffrey was chief of the guard today, a man with several years experience leading foot soldiers. He alone among the king's men was mounted and he rode at the head of the column of market goers.

"Brian, do you make your own sandals or have a cobbler do it? Since father died, my mother and me are forced to make our own."

He looked up at Emma smiling down at him and said "I wear mailed boots like I have on now, for protection outside, just like the knights and the foot soldiers wear. I only wear sandals inside or very near the castle now. Until I came to Camelot, yes, I had to make my own. I rarely got leather though, so mostly I went barefoot. I suppose I could pay to have my sandals made now. I have just about worn through the ones that Sir Lancelot's mother gave me. I don't think Sir Lancelot ever made his own sandals, though he can repair anything from footwear to pieces of armor. Not as well as professional cobblers or armor makers though. Last time his sandals needed repair, I did it."

"That was nice of you."

"No, that is my job, to take care of his equipment. I have to know how for when I have my own equipment."

" I see, like my mother has me how to mend tears in her gowns. Someday I will have grownup gowns for court."

"Emma, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but with missing fingers, does it make sewing harder? And other chores harder?"

Emma was quiet for a time and Brian was about to apologize when Emma spoke again. "I think it does sometimes. But I am only missing two fingers so the other ones take on the work. It has been so long since it happened that I hardly remember if it was better having all my fingers."

"Oh," said Brian, "there doesn't seem to be anything that other girls do that you can't do."

She smiled at him. "Hey, that was a nice thing to say. It was the two smallest ones together, you see, when as a toddler I put my hand on the log my father was chopping. He hadn't seen me come up behind him. And he was ever so sorry, but I don't remember as I was only two. Mother said he cried every time he saw me after that and he started avoiding me. I don't remember that either because it was only a half year after that when he was killed in battle."

"So who takes care of your mother and you now?"

"My uncle, in a way. He inherited Father's lands given to him by the present king's father as I have no brothers. My uncle doesn't give us much to live on so the queen has my mother as one of her senior ladies. The queen supports many widows and the king approves. Though of gentle birth, my mother has sewing skills and weaving skills the queen depends on."

"I didn't know that any gentle people have to work like common people."

"Brian, there are gentle people who have disappeared into the common people, just like there are common people like yourself who have been adopted into the gentry. Sir Lancelot is a wonderful man. I wish that someday I could marry such a man but I think the best I will be able to do is find a skilled common man who can create enough wealth to live comfortably, or the second son of gentle family of modest means."

As the column moved along the road which was barely more than a single file animal trail, Brian kept the donkey moving even as it tried to dip its head to grab a tuft of grass. He let the animal get his way at times, as long as it kept moving as it chewed. Thinking about Emma's words, he knew how fortunate he was that Lancelot had practically adopted him. So he told Emma about Lancelot's sister Aveline and the letters he exchanged with her that helped him learn to write.

"Is she pretty?"

"Oh yes, even though she walks with a limp," Brian explained. "And bossy too. Though I don't mind that much. She taught me how to play chess. At times she acts like her brother gave me to her. She knew all about me when I met her for the first time, so Sir Lancelot must have told her a lot about me in his letters to his mother and sister. His mother didn't seem to like me much at first but now she gives me things like shirts and leggings every time she visits Camelot from the family home castle of Benwick. Lancelot is always asking if Aveline and I are getting along well. We spend a lot of time together whenever she and her mother visit Camelot. Sir Lancelot seems to make sure that we do spend a lot of time together."

Emma fell silent as the day wore on and they neared the market site. Was it something Brian said about Lancelot's family, he wondered? Anyway, he would be busy setting up camp as the porters were leading pack animals into a field and unloading tents while the cooks gathered wood for fires. They would camp for two nights and start back in the early morning on the third day, hoping despite heavier loads, to be back at Camelot by dusk or early evening. So there was a lot to do without worrying about Emma's silence.

Emma dismounted and Brian helped her pull bundles off the donkey. They staked the donkey in a patch of long grass near a stream which was fine with the animal. The foot soldiers took up positions on the outskirts of the camping area while the women, at least the common ones, raised tents and staked them down. As dusk came upon them, fires flared up everywhere with women sitting around them cooking and gossiping. The squires, including Brian, were organized in patrol groups by Master Geoffrey to circle the camp keeping the foot soldier sentries awake and relieving them for short periods so the men could go into the camp to eat and sleep in shifts.

As Brian talked pleasantly with each man in his assigned group of foot soldiers, he spotted the queen stepping out of a palanquin. It surprised him that she had no high ranking knights in attendance, so he walked over and greeted her.

"Good evening my lady, I hope you have all that you need from our limited amenities here in camp."

"Why young Brian, thank you for asking. I am perfectly comfortable. The king, I am sure, would have sent more men and provisions if he felt it necessary. I wasn't sure until the last minute, if I should make this trip. I left the king a note saying I had decided to go. I didn't want any fuss about my needs and I think it will be fun to camp out with ordinary people, getting to know them better."

"The king didn't know if you were actually going?" Brian raised his eyebrows in obvious shock.

Guinevere put her fingers lightly on Brian's arm and smiled sweetly. "I expect he will only be slightly vexed. I often visit Londinium to shop when ships are expected from the continent. Do not be distressed. In fact, join me for the evening meal."

"Can I bring Lady Emma? I am supposed to keep an eye on her."

"So you have a mission, a responsibility? Of course you can bring her. I have sent a page around camp to invite any of the young ladies of Camelot who have come on this excursion."

Brian bowed and went to finish his round of the sentries. Afterward, he found Emma had gotten her camp site in order with the help of two off duty foot soldiers. Brian eyed them for any signs of inappropriate behavior but they were eager to be off to the cook fires that served them their evening meal.

"I was going to cook for you. As you know, I was a kitchen boy and Sir Lancelot likes my cooking when we camp out on missions. See," and he pulled a little bag of spices out of a pocket in his quilted jerkin. "But the queen has invited us to dine with her tonight."

"How delightful, Brian! I didn't know she would be coming with us, although we all knew some vendors of quality goods would be at this market. Here, let me change out of these dusty traveling clothes."

…

As they sat back on the camp stools that Brian had brought for Emma and himself, the queen offered around a wine skin for an after dinner treat. Emma held out their two wooden goblets so Brian could pour for both of them. As the skin went round those seated a comfortable distance from the campfire, the queen fixed her eyes on Emma.

"Lady Emma, now that you are fifteen, I have spoken to your mother about allowing you proper escorts to fairs and markets. I was glad when Sir Lancelot suggested that his excellent young squire was free."

Emma's eyes had a moist look in the firelight and she smiled wanly. "I never expected to be so honored. I had expected one of the crafter's apprentices."

"That would have been quite appropriate," chimed in Lady Margery who was obscured on the far side of the fire. "But then, Sir Lancelot's squire might indeed be appropriate due to his humble origin."

"Really now, young lady, haven't we had a discussion about this sort of remark?" the queen asked Margery.

Brian lightly patted Emma's arm and she gave him a quick smile that disappeared when she faced the queen again.

"Now Emma," the queen addressed her again, "you must take advantage of meeting and getting acquainted with many fine young gentlemen."

"Thank you, my lady," Emma said, "meeting many of them would be great as some of them, like Brian, may already have a young lady picked out for them."

"What?" Brian responded, "I really have no one promised to me."

Emma looked at Brian sadly. "Actually, I think you do. It seems that way after all you have been saying about Sir Lancelot's sister, how she treats you as if she owns you and that her brother seems to be behind that."

"Emma, our conversation this afternoon was private and certainly you have assigned more meaning to it than could possibly be there," said Brian, disappointment obvious in his voice.

Emma stood, tears starting to flow down her cheeks and in a wavering voice said "my lady queen, may I please be excused to retire for the evening?"

"Certainly, Emma," said the queen, a concerned look on her face.

Brian started to follow Emma, but the queen motioned for him to stay.

"Squire Simon, will you escort Lady Emma to her tent and remain there until Brian relieves you?"

Simon bowed and followed Emma.

"My lady queen, I don't know what to say. It seems I have caused unhappiness where I only meant friendship and companionship."

"Brian, you are entering the age of courtship, which never runs smoothly. What she has deduced may or not have some truth to it, but her outburst was due to her worry about her future. She thinks highly of you but owes you an apology for blurting out what was said in reasonable confidence. It will all blow over, even her embarrassment. All you young people here tonight, be kind to each other and especially Emma at this time. You all will be experiencing this sort of thing over the next few years."

There was a general murmur of "yes my lady" then a shuffling of camp chairs as the dinner guests rose to disperse to their tents. Brian picked up the two chairs he had brought, folding them under one arm so he could pick up the two half full goblets.

The queen leaned forward and said quietly "Brian, I do believe that Emma has picked up accurately the tenor of the situation, but I hope you can still be friends with her."

Brian softly replied "I never ever would want to hurt Lady Emma. I think we can be good friends. She is the only person that I felt safe enough with to tell about Aveline. I wanted a valued opinion and never expected for her to see Aveline as a rival. What should I do?"

"Just be kind to her. Let her know that you are not angry with her. I think you two will become good friends. Good night now, Brian."

The queen rose and Brian, even encumbered, managed an awkward bow before he set off to put his bed roll at the entrance to Emma's tent.

…

Everyone was up at sunrise - or before if they were cooking breakfast. Brian had awakened twice in the night for patrols of his section of the camp perimeter, but still felt energetic and eager for a day of shopping. He grabbed a hunk of bread and cheese and a bit of goats milk from one of the fire circles the foot soldiers had going. Looking in on Emma, he saw that she was already dressed for the market and was eating a breakfast of bread and eggs around another fire circle.

"Do you want the donkey set up with panniers for shopping?" he asked Emma.

"No, she said glumly. I will just carry two satchels. You need not come with me as I will be with other ladies and three other squires."

"But I am supposed to look out for you."

"Brian, go do your own shopping."

He opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and decided he could do his own shopping and keep his eye on her at a distance. Sighing, he removed his blanket from the sack he carried it in and slung the sack over his shoulder as a shopping bag. Leaning against the donkey after giving it some water and a handful of oats, he watched the bevy of ladies assemble for shopping while chattering away excitedly. They smiled at their escorts, offering their arms so that each of the three young men had both their arms encumbered. Off they went, as if to a dance.

"Some fine protectors," Brian mumbled to himself. "No one watching for purse snatchers or worse. No man's hands free to fend off undesirables. I better ask Master Geoffrey to assign a few foot soldiers to walk along near them. There still would be enough men to guard the camp, plus sending a few to the market at a time to do their own shopping."

Looking over at Master Geoffrey, he saw that was just what the master of foot soldiers was doing. So patting the donkey on his rump, Brian followed the shoppers into the market area, weaving his way between vendors hawking their wares.

The blacksmith held an interest for Brian. In a sweat-spotted tunic, the man beat a bar of iron into a hook at one end. The orange of the metal faded to red before it was splashed into a wooden bucket of water. The other end of the bar went into the glowing coals in the forge with a lad of about six years old working the bellows to keep the fire hot. Brian knew that the other end the bar would also be beaten into a hook. Looking down, he saw a basket of double ended hooks of various lengths which customers were sorting through. These would be great for hanging pots over fires or a hundred other uses. But glancing down the path between vendors, Brian saw Emma's group getting further ahead so he hurried to catch up.

Again Brian was distracted, this time by a straw weaving vendor. A woman was sloshing water over a cloak of tightly braided straw impregnated with tallow to show how water proof it was. What a creative invention, Brian thought, until he asked the price. He needed new sandals more than a raincoat, so he moved on, making up distance between himself and the people he was following.

When the sun was at its peak in the sky, Brian's group had stopped and servants carrying folding camp chairs were setting them down for the ladies. The three squires still standing, beckoned a food vendor to bring ale and meats in folded bread for the ladies' refreshment. The squires stood as they ate their own midday meals, the foot soldiers discretely standing still a few paces back. The foot soldiers passed around a water skin, but did not eat.

Brian, seeing all was well, rounded a vendor tent and walked quickly down an improvised alley of stalls and awnings until he spotted a leather vendor. Whole hides hung for inspection beside cut squares of leather good for vest making. Leather laces sorted into different lengths hung from wooden display frames on iron hooks like those in the blacksmith's shop.

Seeing Brian's interest, the vendor greeted him. "Hello young sir, what is your pleasure this fine day?"

Pulling his used sandals from his sack, Brian handed them to the man.

"Oh, I see. Do you want these repaired or would you like me to make you a new pair?"

"You can make sandals, not just sell me the parts?" asked Brian.

"Of course, young man."

"How long would it be for you to repair these old ones and make me a new pair?"

"You could pick them up shortly before sundown. I can use your old ones as a model for the new pair. There is a workshop I have set up in back here with various sizes of soles and lacings ready to go. Now if you would like a vest too, that would not be ready until tomorrow."

"I think I only have enough money for the two pairs of sandals," said Brian, withdrawing the lanyard holding the pouch with his coins from his tunic. He shook out four coins. Would this be enough?"

He figured it would not be quite enough but did not want shake out all his coins and be relieved of his entire savings.

The leather vendor frowned slightly then said "two more of those."

Brian shook out two more coins.

"Done," said the vendor and he swept up the coins into a pocket in an apron hanging from his waist.

He reached for Brian's sandals and was disappearing with them behind a curtain hung to separate the items for sale from the workshop area when Brian said "Could you make the new sandals just slightly larger than my old ones? My feet are still growing."

The man turned back, nodded with a smile, and dropped the curtain behind him.

Brian turned to go back to find his young ladies group, well pleased with his transaction. Not having to make sandals himself gave him time for other pursuits. The chairs were being packed up when he rejoined his group - at a distance. Emma noticed him, but made no move to acknowledge him. Simon, Brian's friend among the squires, hailed him and held out a satchel bulging with purchases. He also raised a lady's hand and offered it to Brian. Smiling, Brian offered the young lady his elbow and settled the strap of the satchel over his other shoulder. Part of the group now, Brian was better able to keep track of them.

…

"I have done nothing wrong, yet Emma is ignoring me," Brian told Charlie, another of the squires that had escorted the ladies to the market that day.

Charlie was sitting beside Brian on a log they had dragged from the firewood pile. They were eating an evening meal consisting of bowls of scrambled eggs and sausage washed down with cups of ale. Charlie was fingering a new leather belt he had bought and Brian was wearing his new sandals around camp to break them in. When he went on his sentry rounds, he would change into the boots covered with small gauge links of chain mail, the same as he wore on escort duty or any mission with Lancelot.

"She is embarrassed. She will get over it. Are you really promised to this Aveline, Sir Lancelot's sister?"

"I never said that! Emma just assumed. Still, the two of us are fond of each other and Sir Lancelot seems to be encouraging it."

"Then, Emma should not try to monopolize your attention. You are not promised but it looks quite serious. I mean, the knight I serve would never let me get within spitting distance of his sister or his daughters. Why put at risk what would be an advantageous possible union for you by getting too close to Emma?"

"But Charlie, Sir Lancelot thought it would be good for me to escort Emma. I have done nothing to show Emma I expected more than friendship from her."

"My advice? Just accept the distance Emma is putting between you. It would be better for a possible relationship with Aveline. And that would be a positive step up for a lad of your background."

"I still feel sad about it."

"Don't be."

Then Charlie winked at Brian, got up to deliver his bowl to the wash up servants and went to the fire where Margery was sitting, for a little chatting up of his own.

Brian waited until the ladies had retired to their tents before unrolling his bed roll. It looked like rain on the way and he was sorry that he had not purchased that straw raincoat. The foot soldiers had set up an awning, protection over head and on one side from any rain. It was close enough to keep watch on Emma's tent so Brian went over to it. One soldier was stretched out under it, snoring. Two others were sitting there dozing and made room for Brian to sit with them under it.

…

The next morning, packing up to return to Camelot had become a major production. More people would be walking because horses and donkeys were loaded down under a substantial burden of purchases. Brian had tried three different ways to load Emma's donkey and it had protested by braying and sitting back on its bum.

Finally, Emma said in exasperation "Stupid thing! I will just have to walk and carry some things. Brian, will you pack these two small bags so they are equal in weight?"

"Of course, Emma. But let me try to rearrange the load on your donkey one more time."

Emma shrugged and walked a few steps away, turned and said "but hurry now. Those on horseback are already on the move."

Brian packed some light cloth and two precious glass jars for Emma to carry. He repacked the panniers accept for Emma's linen bed sheet and blanket. These he tied with cords over the donkey and its load like a horse blanket.

"There, you now are caparisoned like a war horse, little donkey," he said, feeding the animal a little helping of oats on the palm of his hand. This elevated status seemed acceptable to the donkey.

"All ready Emma," Brian shouted as he shouldered his bedroll as a backpack. He needed both his hands free – one to lead the donkey and one for his sword, should it become necessary.

The column wound along the narrow winding road toward Camelot. There was less talking, less excitement, just a heavily burdened group eager to return to the comforts of home. The low areas of the path were puddled causing wet shoes and hems but the hills were dry, making the animals and people kick up dust for those behind them to cough through. Brian, off and on, carried one or the other of Emma's bags. By early afternoon, there were sighs and grumbling as everyone had agreed not to stop for a midday refreshment. They were not covering as much ground as they expected but did not want to spend another night camping out.

Climbing up one of the steeper hills, Master Geoffrey raised his arm, forcing a halt which rippled through the strung out group with people setting down bundles in obvious irritation. Then he gestured for everyone to hurry. He spurred his horse down the hill shouting for them all to get up and run up to the top of the hill.

"What has he seen?" People were asking, looking back in confusion.

"Armed robbers!" someone said, which was passed along the line in panicked voices.

Master Geoffrey reached the end of the column where stragglers were walking.

"Drop all that! Run up the hill!"

Then he turned, telling the foot soldiers to pull the people away from their bundles and drag them up the hill.

Brian and Emma were in the middle of the column with people that had donkeys – some riding them and others leading them. They watched as those mounted on horses galloped up the hill, dismounted, and started to pull packs off the horses to create a barrier wall.

"Make way, make way!" shouted a man who was trotting forward with three others carrying a palanquin. People stepped aside when he added "Move for the queen!"

The two other palanquins, which had been traveling together, were run forward in the wake of the queen's transport. Those who had stepped aside, stayed there, only to be bumped and pushed by those behind them. It was slow going for those in the middle to the end of the column.

"Ah oh, trouble. Emma run ahead and I will catch up with the donkey. Go!" Brian insisted.

"Not without my stuff!' Emma said, pulling roughly on the donkey's halter, as people behind her dropped bundles and ran past. "This donkey is carrying the proceeds of a year's income for me!"

Emma's shrill voice and the harsh tugging only irritated the donkey. It brayed and sat back, shifting its load so that one bundle slid under its belly.

"You will never get it to go now!" Brian shouted.

Then he had an idea. He pulled out his knife and cut the ropes binding the bundles to the struggling animal.

"No! No! No!" shrieked Emma, pummeling his back with her fists.

Brian tried to straighten under her attack, after being bent over cutting the last rope under the donkey's belly. Then he saw, as well as felt, the approach of pounding hoofs behind them.

Turning, he slapped Emma to shut her up and lifted her by the waist onto the donkey's back on top of the linen sheet which was still tied by laces, to its mane. He slapped the donkey's backside with the flat of his knife, sending it charging up the hill with Emma's hands clinging to its mane and the sheet flapping under her.

Facing the approaching horsemen, he saw them slicing through the bodies of the furthest stragglers.

"Run!" He shouted needlessly to those beside him.

Seeing no one else behind them other than those already fallen dead under swords, he turned and ran up the hill, pushing those who were slowing in exhaustion. He felt an arrow graze his sleeve as he tumbled over a stack of bundles in the newly improvised barrier followed by a shock and a stinging in his back.

Staggering to his feet, Brain peered over the improvised wall alongside foot soldiers and squires whose swords, axes, and spears were facing outwards. At least fifty to sixty men were swarming around the base of the hill in uncertainty. Further back, a few dismounted men were finishing of the unfortunates with sword and knife and splitting open bundles to sort out the booty.

For now, the rest of them were safe. Turning to assess their situation, Brian saw a motley circle of palanquins, piles of bundles, a few hand carts, and a wagon with a donkey still harnessed to it creating a circle of defense. Most of the women, including the queen, were sitting on the grass below the level of the improvised barricade so the attackers could not see them.

Master Geoffrey gripped Charlie by the shoulder.

"Someone has to go for help. Take Lady Vera's horse, it is the swiftest."

"My horse? No!"

"No choice, Lady Vera. I don't think any of the other animals could outrun those below. Charlie, go now, before they have the hill surrounded."

Charlie sprang on the animal's back and had jumped the bundles in the lowest point of the improvised wall before further complaint could be made.

"Sorry, Lady Vera," said Master Geoffrey, then turning abruptly pointed to a vulnerable place in the wall that he wanted reinforced. Then he visited each foot soldier and squire giving orders about their defense.

A white bearded foot soldier with well lined face patted Brian on the cheek and saying "sorry son, I mean young sir, but I must do something" before he got behind Brian and ripped the arrow from his quilted jerkin. "You are fine, it didn't penetrate, but you have a bit of mending to do on that jerkin."

…

Sir Lancelot was rubbing his eyes after staring for hours at maps that were being studied and redrawn. He heard one of the castle's sentries sound an alarm and took the stone stairs two at a time to meet the man for the news. He entered the main courtyard on the run as Charlie, mounted on a sweating and blowing horse, came to an unsteady stop.

"Sir Lancelot, we were under attack. The market excursion group. The queen. Many court ladies. Top of a hill. Fifty some armed and mounted men. Killed six stragglers. I must take you there."

Then Charlie slipped off the horse, his mouth dribbling blood and with an arrow sticking deep into his back.

"Carrier!" Lancelot shouted and two men brought a blanket secured between two poles.

After Charlie was lifted, belly down, onto the carrier, Lancelot asked "Where!"

"Halfway. From. Market. West road."

"Right," said Lancelot who noticed the king had come up behind him as Charlie passed out.

"I heard it all, Lancelot. All available knights, mount up and take the west road with me. Sir Merek stay here in charge with Sir Thomas to assist."

…

They had repulsed two charges. Then Master Geoffrey had led a charge over the barrier and they drove the attackers half way down the hill before reinforcements from the looters drove them back up behind their fortification. Three dead horses of the brigands lay in obscene positions half way up the hill. Five foot soldiers and one squire lay dead where they had fallen on the hillside, on top of and under the bodies of several attackers. There was no way they dared drag the bodies of their comrades up into the improvised fort.

Some of the women were whimpering and one severely wounded man had been groaning in the arms of the queen as she tried unsuccessfully to stop his bleeding. She had removed the leather arm protectors and unlaced his leather chest protector to apply pressure to his belly wound. He died anyway and was covered with a blanket next to the queen's palanquin.

Soaked with the man's blood, the queen refused to change clothes while more wounded needed her immediate attention. Master Geoffrey ordered everyone to drink a little water and eat a hunk of bread to keep their strength up. Sorting out the food and binding up injuries kept the non combatants busy and quiet.

Emma held a piece of linen torn from her bed sheet, to Brian's shoulder. An arrow had pieced the quilted jerkin, this time in front, to a depth of an inch into the skin and muscle. She had pulled the arrow out and made a bandage of rolled linen held in place by a strip of linen run over his shoulder, down his back, under his arm and up across his chest. There were glancing sword cuts in the sleeves of his shirt and one long one in his leggings. None of these penetrated his skin. But her entire sheet was gone. It had been shredded to bind up the wounds of four other men.

Brian could have kicked himself for not being better armored like the foot soldiers always were. But his battle gear would have been heavier and hotter on the long trek to and from the market. He did manage to now have time to pull on his battle leggings with the metal grommets. His shoulder hurt too much to try to pull on his battle jacket with the metal grommets, so the padded jerkin would have to do. Emma gently replaced it and laced it up.

"Well, now that my leggings do actually have a tear in them, where is Margery to make note of it," Brian said, trying to make humor of what was a serious situation.

"Oh her," Emma said spitefully, "she refuses to treat wounded foot soldiers, only wounded squires, but I got to you before she did and accept for Simon who is beyond her reach, Ralf is not wounded yet."

"Thanks, Emma, I am okay now, so I must return to the barricade."

"No, Brian!"

But he had already stood and was limping to rejoin the men, his hand bracing his shoulder.

Their effective fighting force was down by a quarter, with only fifteen men able to now hold their fortification. Master Geoffrey was not going to let them out to fight down the hill again. The two squires left and several of the foot soldiers wanted to make another go of it over the barricade, but the bodies lying on the hillside were a sobering deterrent.

The servants who usually did the heavy work whether in castle, town, or camp, had built a fire to heat some food and planned to put it out at dusk so they would not become a target at night. Everyone hoped they soon would see a rescue party of mounted knights, but they had seen an arrow strike Charlie, though he hadn't fallen. They watched in dread of seeing his rider less horse return. That had not happened, so there was still hope.

Later, while Brian sipped some warm soup containing pieces of mushroom, carrot, and a little beef, Emma was looking at him. When he handed her the empty mug, she smiled.

"Sorry. I had no right to treat you the way I have been doing on this trek. It is not about you, it is about me. When I want something badly, it hurts so deeply knowing I cannot have it."

Brian put his hand on her cheek. "Emma, I know what it is to want something badly. I wanted to come to Camelot when I was a pot washer. And I did get what I wanted but it was not the shiny easy dream that I imagined. It is darn hard work. There are a few things I don't like about my chosen way of life, but many more things that I do. I only have to look beyond that barrier of bundles where my fellow squire Simon's body lies to know what the bad things are. And sometimes you have to change from wanting one thing to wanting another. Like wanting a fancy vest or a new raincoat but only being able to afford sandals. That is just a small thing as an example. But there is always something that will come along that you can't have. If that makes sense."

"It does make sense. Maybe I am thinking my situation is more desperate than it really is," she said.

Brian frowned. "Well, our situation on this hill top I would say is desperate enough."

"If we all get killed up here," she laughed, "I won't have to worry about anything else I might be desperate about."

Brian laughed too, then put a hand to his shoulder and winced.

Emma looked concerned. "Don't laugh that hard if it hurts."

They sat silently together as the daylight faded and the cooks put the fire out. Then Brian returned to the barricade. At a low point in the barricade, a foot soldier stood up and was standing with his legs apart and his hands at his groin. Brian, kneeling nearby and peering over the barricade to see if any movement, any shadows, were ascending the hill, whispered to the standing man "Psssst! Get down, even in the dark you could be a target for an arrow!"

"Heck, young sir, a guy's got to take a…you know…every now and then. The cook fire's out. No one can see me."

"Then be quick about it."

"Can't hurry nature. Besides, they might favor attacking this low spot and if it's good and wet, the bastards will slip so I can knock them on the head."

Brian tried hard to repress a laugh which turned into a snort which ended abruptly when his wounded shoulder hurt. He clasped his shoulder with his other hand and took some deep breaths to steady himself.

Then a horn sounded in the distance.

…

It was almost dusk when Sir Bors brought the attention of the other knights to a light on a hill about two miles away. Then it was gone as if it had never existed. On an educated guess, the king led them in that direction.

Bursting through the trees on a road through a patch of forest, the knights instantly assessed the situation: a fortified encampment at the top of a hill with armed men on horseback below. There were men loading goods on horses there too.

Sir Bors and Sir Lancelot led a charge on the armed riders while shouting to the king that they could handle this. The king nodded and rode up the hill to the cheers of the defenders who helped him down from his horse. He spotted the queen and gasped at her blood soaked gown.

"Arthur, it is not my blood! It the blood of one of your unfortunate foot soldiers."

The king pressed his wife to him, then he turned his attention to the battle below.

It could hardly be called a battle, because it was more of a rout. Eight of the brigands were taken down swiftly and the rest fled. Those loading the horses were unable to mount the skittish haphazardly loaded beasts. They were rounded up at spear point, all except two who were pulled up behind mounted men fleeing on horseback.

"Let them go," Sir Lancelot said, "we will find out who they are from those we have captured. It would be futile to chase after them in the dark. Let's see to our people."

Sir Bors led two loaded horses to the base of the hill saying "it looks like they didn't make off with anything. If we post guards at the base of the hill, I think we can keep any miscreants from sneaking over here in the night and making off with any goods."

Other knights collected the rest of the brigands' pack horses and loose bundles on the ground. They bound the captives and posted enough guards and established shifts for the night before some of the knights climbed the hill.

To make more room for people sleeping at the top of the hill that night, the horses and donkeys were brought down to the base for tethering and guarding. At the top of the hill, tents went up and a fire was relit to provide food for the knights and the king. Lancelot noticed the bodies of Camelot men on the hillside and overheard that one squire had been killed.

"Brian?" Lancelot called as he let Caledon be led away for tethering and ran up the hill. He peered into the darkness, searching the faces visible in the firelight.

"Over here, my lord," Brian responded, "I am near the queen's palanquin with the queen and Lady Emma. We are setting up tents for decent sleeping arrangements for the ladies. We have to lace a few tents together."

With a sigh of relief, Lancelot went over to them and exclaimed "My lady!" upon seeing Guinevere's travel clothes covered in blood.

"It is not my blood, Sir Lancelot," the queen explained for a second time. "A foot soldier bled to death in my arms. We lost five foot soldiers and a squire when half the men leapt out of the fortification to meet the brigands on the slope of the hill."

Lancelot took the queen's hand and kissed the back of it. "I was so worried we would not get here in time. I am sad for our loses, but glad it was no worse."

The king coming up behind them said "Well, my love, I think you will have to sleep in your palanquin. I will just roll up in a blanket by the cook fire with the men tonight."

The queen smiled and took his arm. "You have wounded men to cheer up, let me lead you to them. And in the morning we will have burials to attend to."

They walked away discussing these things.

Lancelot looked Brian over, saying "battle wounds, my boy? But minor ones, I see."

"Yes sir, minor ones, but Simon…"

"I heard. And since you are using only one hand, I will lend my two in order to finish the ladies' quarters. Then bring your bedroll over to the fire where the knights and foot soldiers will be sleeping under the stars."

"I'm not to stay outside Lady Emma's tent?"

"No, you're with the men tonight, Brian. You have earned that right today."

…

They marked the graves with stones before they left the next morning. As they did so, Brian ran through yesterday's charge down the hill in his mind. Foot soldiers had fought alongside him, fighting as bravely as any knights. From now on he would have great respect for them and find it easier to share a meal or a dice game with them. He also would know better how to evaluate their abilities and calm their fears. This new understanding he wanted to share some time with Lancelot for he had observed Lancelot's easy manner with any level of men at arms. It was just one of the unteachable skills obtainable only through experience, Brian thought.

The journey home was now more pleasant with enough horses and men to share the load. They even had the captives carry packs on their backs, though their hands were tied. One lady had so loaded her husband's war horse with market goods that he would not have been able to fight should the situation come up. Emma had retrieved all of her goods but for one broken glass jar. She walked beside Brian as he led the donkey, a companionable silence settling between them. The whole group was fortunate enough to retrieve almost everything, because the greed of the brigands made them stay to try to get more by overrunning the people on the hill instead of making off with only what had been dropped below.

Lady Margery's horse went lame, so her goods had to be distributed among helpful people and animals. Still, she complained the rest of the way to Camelot, about having to walk and ruin her riding shoes. None of the squires seemed to want to walk with her.

…

Life at Camelot was returning to a normal routine after a few days as goods were unpacked. A page summoned Brian to the kitchens one evening, mentioning that the queen wanted to ask him about a spice mixture he had shared with the camp cooks on the market expedition. Brian had very little left of it. It was something he had learned to make when he was the pot washer at the castle of Urgan the Strong before he met Sir Lancelot.

The queen was sitting at a heavily knife scarred table, whose wood was discolored from years of food preparation. She turned from a large recipe book to smile up at Brian, patting a place on a bench adjacent to the one she was sitting on.

"Have a mug of cider, Brian, and please show me a sample of your spice mixture."

She lifted the heavy book, still open, and asked the cook, to take it to a pantry and assemble ingredients from the recipe on the open page. When the cook was out of hearing range, she turned to Brian.

"Can you make more of this spice, enough for a stew to feed about twenty people? If they like it as much as I did at the camp, would you share the ingredients by writing them down for me?"

"Oh yes, my lady, but it will take me awhile to gather the ingredients as they do not all grow this time of year. It may be next spring or early summer before I can get them all."

"That is just fine, Brian. We can wait. And really, that is not all I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I did notice the progress of your friendship with Emma, both when you seemed close and also when she seemed to be angry with you. I am glad that the two of you are again on speaking terms."

"I am glad too, though we have drifted apart lately and she seems to be soliciting the attention of other squires."

"Brian, it is nothing you have done that is the cause of her shifting of interest. I am afraid that she is now at an age when she has become concerned about her future prospects. You are a year younger than her and may not yet have the same concerns."

Brian nodded. "She is worried about finding a suitable husband, I think."

"And she will. I will see to that. Her circumstances set her at the border of social levels. Though her father had a small parcel of land, her uncle has inherited it, leaving her and her mother with little to live on. I have found a position in Camelot for her mother as a seamstress now that she is beyond the age of making an easy marriage. Emma could find a squire or knight of modest means in a few years, or a skilled craftsman of established reputation. Either way, she will be comfortably settled and can look forward to a good life. As I said, I will see to that. The king and I take great care in seeing to the happiness of all our people. I know you care for Emma and want to help her. I just wanted you to know you don't have to worry about her. You have your own future to work on and I know Sir Lancelot is taking that well in hand."

"Yes, my lady, I am fortunate to have him as a mentor."

"Yes, you are. And I think he is very fortunate to have you. Run along now, I am sure Sir Lancelot has many chores for you."

"He has indeed. Thank you, my lady."

…

Over the next week, Brian broke in his new sandals at court functions, keeping the old ones for outdoor chores. But he worried that his feet might still be growing so that he might have to replace his armor boots. This thought was in his mind as he folded Lancelot's fresh laundry that he had just retrieved from the drying lines.

"How would you like to escort young Lady Margery to the produce market just outside the castle in the town this week, Brian?"

"What?" asked Brian, not having seen Lancelot come into his sleeping room.

"Well," laughed Sir Lancelot, "her mother requested you. It seems she is running short of young men who are willing escorts for her daughter. But perhaps you are a bit young for the escorting of ladies yet, especially when it is forced upon a youth by a well meaning but misguided parent. I told her that after your experience on the market expedition I have considered you a bit young for that yet."

"Thank god," Brian mumbled as he folded Lancelot's tabards, placing them into a chest against a wall.

"What's that, Brian? I didn't hear you clearly."

"I can wait awhile for that, my lord. Really I can."

24


End file.
